


Safe Harbour

by ledastrevas



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Kid!England, Kid!France, Other, not romantic - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:53:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22411315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ledastrevas/pseuds/ledastrevas
Summary: Your safe harbor sometimes comes from people you least expect.
Relationships: England/France (Hetalia)
Kudos: 18





	Safe Harbour

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Porto Seguro](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/561760) by Lets-party. 



> I hope you like It <3 enjoy!!

Arthur ran as fast as he could with his little legs. He was panting, seeping through trees and bushes, feet cold with mud and wet clothes.

_ "You will have to learn to swim one day." Scotland laughed, pushing Wales into the river, Ireland just rolling his eyes and his twin walking away just in case. _

_ "You have no idea of the danger." The dark-haired one came out of the water, waving his hands. England just trembled and took a step back, looking at the choppy waters ahead. _

_ "I don't want." His voice shook. The redhead laughed. _

_ "You won't die if you try. Literally." He put a hand on his back. The little one tried to run, but with a tug of his cloak he was captured and thrown into the water, his brothers laughing as he returned, clumsily, to the shore, panting and coughing. _

_ "But will you quit already? We haven't even started yet!" The blondie snarled, throwing mud at the nearest one and running away, his steps eventually giving up on following him through the maze of trees." _

Resolving to stop when saw that he was finally alone, he ran a hand over his weeping face, shaking shoulders and low voice. At some point he saw some fairies around him, asking in soft voices why he was so sad, and desolate, he sat on the floor, knees to his chest. He was sad, cold, in pain and alone. Not really, because he had his friends with him - but they couldn't hug him or ...

"Angleterre?" A scream stopped his thoughts, only the voice of the older country bringing him to attention. "Angleterre, where are you? Come and find me, you half rebel!" Clenching his teeth, he remained silent, looking out over the coast of France. The older blond snorted, hands on his hips and looking impatient, unlike his usual noble pose. "If I were a little bigger, I would kick the butt of those barbaric redheads, 'oh yes! Angleterre!"

"Would you kick my brothers?" He let it out, his topaz blue eyes finding him immediately.

"Angleterre! Mon Dieu, are you okay?" A little flustered, the older man struggled through the bushes, holding his robes in one hand. Part of his hair was tied with a water green ribbon, the same color as his tunic. "I came to your house, and on the way I heard your brothers talking about what they did to you." He tossed his hair over his shoulder with a dramatic grimace.

"And why do you care? I know you would do the same thing, idiot!"

"Who are you calling an idiot, runt?"

"Besides being old, are you deaf, frog?"

"Frog? Have you looked in the mirror today?" The child flinched, turning away. Francis inhaled and exhaled, approaching and kneeling in front of him, not caring about the dirt on the floor.

"Arthur." He called in a soft, serious voice, attracting his attention. "I know we've been fighting since you were born, but I… I would never do anything you didn't want to. Mostly, I wouldn't mistreat my little brother for fun." His eyes were sincere, with sympathy and affection. "You are so small and cute, except when you open your dirty mouth to curse." He laughed. "You still have so much to learn. I know this is not the best time, and you won't believe it, but you are very important to me, 'oui?" He stroked the hair full of leaves and small branches, carefully removing them. "Come to me whenever you feel upset, I promise I will listen and keep it in secret."

"Pro-promise?" Tears were already streaming down the small face. The other nodded, lifting his little finger and intertwining it with the smaller one.

"If you want a hug." He opened his arms, surprised when England jumped on him, crying openly and clinging to his robes, France's hands comforting him and hugging him tightly. Without caring about the dirt or the humidity that wet him, Francis felt his eyes water too, but he caught himself and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his face before he saw it. He got up with a little difficulty. "Let's go. I'm going to take you over to your house to take a bath and warm you up, no one here is going to be sick."

"Hm." The blondie continued to hug his neck, sniffing and soft, tired.

"Take that and wipe your nose. Don't mess with my hair, or I'll throw you in the first sewer I can find!" Arthur laughed at the idea, accepting the handkerchief and just letting go to get on his horse, cheeks flushed with shame as he hugged his waist, waiting for a provocation that never came. With only one arm keeping him close, the animal's trot and the weariness of the day led him to sleep in the french arms, feeling safe and loved with him.


End file.
